


Tomorrow

by orphan_account



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Encke/Deimos/desk smut</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asocialconstruct](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/gifts).



> Little drabble for SC's Encke/Deimos needs. <3

Deimos had never been inside Encke's office before. Deimos never even knew Encke  _had_ an office. He glanced around the room when Encke let him in, wondered why anyone had wasted precious space on the Sleipnir just to give Encke a place to put his desk.

"Deimos," Encke said, sitting down and folding his hands on the dark surface. Deimos took a seat on the other side, facing Encke across the smooth, sleek wood.

"Yes, sir?" Deimos said, glancing around again. Nothing in the room except for a few metal cabinets. Only one picture on the desk that Deimos couldn't see from his angle, nothing else but a tablet and Encke's computer.

"You know why you're here, don't you?" Encke asked, pinning Deimos with a look as though daring him to deny it.

Deimos nodded once, said, "Cain."

"That's right," Encke said, little smirk on his lips, as if he thought this was going to be easy. He tapped the tablet at his elbow, pushing it toward Deimos across the desk. "This is your disciplinary record," he said.

Deimos didn't reach forward, barely glanced at the screen before looking away.

"Take it," Encke said.

Deimos snapped to attention at Encke's sharp tone, the one he always used when giving orders. Deimos didn't know of anyone on the Sleipnir who was immune to that voice. He picked up the tablet without thinking about it, looking down at his list of offenses. When he thought that he had looked long enough, that Encke would be satisfied, he glanced up.

"Why don't you tell me who else you see on that list," Encke said, standing and rounding the desk. Deimos didn't answer, too distracted by Encke's sudden presence, dark pants mere inches from Deimos' knees.

Encke shifted even closer, leaning forward. Deimos stuttered out, "C—Cain," as Encke took the tablet from his hands.

"That's right."

It was quiet for a long moment, Deimos' eyes on Encke's pant legs, unable to look up, to meet that gaze. When he felt a hand on his chin, Deimos stiffened, couldn't help it, breath stilling in his lungs. Encke lifted his face, forcing Deimos to meet his eyes.

"I know you're not dumb," Encke said, voice as soft as Deimos had ever heard it; a whole new side to Encke that he never even knew existed. "So what's he got on you, huh? Why do you do everything he wants?"

Encke's hand moved, fingers sliding rough over Deimos' cheek, brushing the ends of his hair. "He doesn't care. You know that."

Deimos did know that, of course he did. Encke was right; he wasn't dumb. "I—"

"He just keep you around 'cause you're so pretty?" he said.

Deimos glared, tilting his head away from Encke's touch.

Encke paused, hand still hovering in midair. "I hit a nerve?"

Deimos got to his feet, swallowing when he realized that put him almost chest-to-chest with Encke. "I do what I want," he said, as if that meant anything, as if they both didn't already know that what he wanted to do was anything Cain told him.

"Yeah?" Encke said with a skeptical little smile, eyes narrowing.

Deimos felt the world narrowing, graying around the edges of his vision, just as it always did when he went in for the kill, when he was facing down an opponent and finally found their weakness. He felt that when he looked up at Encke, the moment when he could  _feel_  victory, like an all-consuming hum in his veins. "Yeah."

He lurched up, forward, shoved two hands hard against Encke's chest to force him back on the desk. Encke almost looked as though he were going to protest, eyes going wide and his mouth opening, but then Deimos had climbed onto the desk just after him, slinging a leg across Encke's thighs, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him.

Encke made a muffled noise, maybe a protest, but it didn't last long enough for Deimos to be sure. Within a moment, Encke had grabbed at Deimos' ass, pulling him forward, fingers digging in hard.

Deimos leaned forward even more, forcing Encke back across the desk, one of Deimos' knees brushing against a ridge in the wood. He frowned, slipped a tongue into Encke's mouth to keep him distracted while he maneuvered his knee to push the tablet off the desk and onto the floor with a crack.

Encke jerked away, breaking the kiss to glance around. "Was that—"

"Oops," Deimos said, didn't give Encke a chance to protest before leaning forward to bite the full jut of his lower lip, one hand sneaking beneath Encke's shirt to palm the hot skin of his stomach.

Encke grunted, grabbed Deimos' hand and moved it down between his legs. Deimos smiled into their next kiss, rubbing circles against the front of Encke's pants, teasing him to hardness, withdrawing his touch every time Encke shifted his hips up for more friction. Eventually, Encke threaded a hand in Deimos' hair, tilting his head back and biting against the exposed line of his throat.

He skimmed his lips up to Deimos' ear, hot breath blowing across the thin skin just beneath. "You know how to do anything except tease?"

Deimos started stripping Encke down before he'd even finished that sentence, sliding both hands down the dark skin of his chest, watching the quick rise and fall beneath his palms. Deimos' hands fell to Encke's waistband, starting to slide off the desk and get on his knees, but Encke gripped his arms to stop him.

"I want to fuck you."

Deimos' stomach tightened, getting harder at Encke's dark tone, the blown pupils. He nodded, and Encke shifted them, sliding off the desk and then bending Deimos over it, pressing hot and hard up against his back as he reached over and opened the top drawer. His hand rummaged inside, hips pressed firmly up against Deimos' ass, rocking into him.

When he extracted the lube, he set it on the desk, hands moving to the front of Deimos' pants. Both palms rubbed hard against him for just a moment, making Deimos shudder and bite his lip, before Encke's fingers started to undo the buttons, pushing down the zip and then guiding Deimos' pants down his legs, resting at his ankles.

Then the lube was off the desk, Encke's heavy breathing against the back of Deimos' neck as he leaned forward, slick fingers working him open.

" _Oh,"_  Deimos said, sound barely audible even to his own ears. He pressed his forehead against his arm laying flat against smooth wood, closing his eyes, feeling Encke's thick fingers circle just past the ring of muscle, making Deimos pant and squirm, trying to shift his hips back.

Then Encke's hand gripped one of Deimos' thighs, guiding it up out of the tangle of clothing, resting his knee against the top of the desk. Encke's fingers pushed all the way inside in one smooth motion, hand rotating, fingers spreading Deimos open.

"Now," Deimos said, had to fight to make his voice loud enough. "Do it now."

Encke didn't need telling twice; withdrew his fingers and lined his cock up instead, rubbing his lips against the back of Deimos' neck as he pushed in. Deimos clawed against the desk, eyes going wide with the sudden pressure. The burn, the fullness, the feeling that left him gasping, all of his muscles clenching and releasing; Deimos thrived on it. It felt just as good as fighting, and in just the same way; nothing but  _need_ ; animalistic and basic.

"God," Deimos said, thigh quivering against the desk. He canted his hips back, trying to get Encke to move, to  _fuck him_. "Come on."

Encke slid a hand up Deimos' back, rubbing underneath his shirt. At the same time he pulled back, just a bit, and Deimos felt himself clench down without trying, fighting against the withdrawal just a bit. But then Encke pushed in, harder, deeper than before. Deimos' back arched, tried at one in the same time to rub himself off against the front of the desk and push back to get Encke to keep moving.

In the end, he got what he wanted, Encke pressing him hard up against the side of the desk, leaning over him and gripping Deimos' hips as he started a quick in-and-out, shunting Deimos up against the side of the desk with every push.

Deimos stretched his arms out, gripped the far side of the desk and braced himself against the push of Encke's hips. Deimos made to glance over his shoulder, wanted to see himself getting fucked, but his eyes paused on the picture that he could now see.

He shifted his elbow, knocked the picture of Encke and Keeler to the ground where it landed next to the tablet.

Encke made an annoyed noise, thrusts slowing to a crawl, bending over nip Deimos' earlobe. Deimos gasped, sharp bite of Encke's teeth pushing him to the edge, but the slow, teasing movements of Encke's hips weren't going to do anything to help.

He arched back against Encke's chest, some soft, needy little noise slipping out of his mouth.

"What is it, baby?" Encke asked, and just that last word had Deimos biting his lip, clenching his eyes shut tight because it was the exact thing Cain would never say to him.

"Faster," Deimos gasped. "I need—I need—"

Encke chuckled, soothed Deimos' earlobe with his lips. He picked up his speed again, jolting Deimos up against the desk. At the same time, Deimos felt Encke's large hand wrap around his cock, jerking fast, head rubbing up hard against the wood with Encke's thrusts.

"Fuck." Deimos whimpered, whole body shaking. When Encke's fingers snaked back, rubbing against the stretched rim of his hole, Deimos lost it, biting his arm while Encke fucked him through his orgasm. He heard Encke curse behind him, felt his hips grow erratic, sliding deep and then shallow, no consistency, until Deimos felt a flood of warmth inside.

The both breathed for a long moment, one of Encke's hands lifting to rub against Deimos' tailbone as he slowly slid out.

Deimos gasped again, fighting against the gaping, empty feeling that was always left behind. Encke moved away, out of Deimos' vicinity, and Deimos made to stand, sure that Encke was done with him.

"Wait," Encke said, and suddenly he was just behind Deimos again, hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

Deimos felt something cool and damp against his entrance, tried not to be embarrassed that Encke was cleaning him up.

"I can—" he started to say, but Encke just snorted.

"It's my mess," he said.

Deimos blinked, glanced over his shoulder as Encke pulled away. Deimos straightened away from the desk, lowered his leg back to the ground and pulled his clothes back on. There was come dripping off the front of the desk, his own mess, but suddenly Encke was just beside him, wiping that up too.

Deimos stepped back, backing toward the door. Cain usually didn't like him hanging around after they had finished, and Deimos didn't have much other experience to go on.

"I'll see you Monday…sir," he said.

He turned back to the door, had just reached toward the touchpad when Encke said, "Deimos."

He hesitated, then looked back.

Encke stepped forward, uncertain, lips parted. "Tomorrow?" he said.

Deimos frowned. "Sir?"

Encke's throat rolled as he walked toward Deimos again, not stopping until they were just barely touching. He leaned down, lifting a hand to Deimos' face again, every movement slow and careful. Even when Encke kissed him, it was slow and soft, tips of his fingers trailing across Deimos' cheekbone; a barely-there touch.

When he pulled away, Deimos wasn't ready. He only wanted more.

"Tomorrow?" Encke said again.

Deimos smiled, couldn't help it, and nodded.


End file.
